Sins of the Past
by Maetro
Summary: What if Catherine's intial reaction to Sara has less to do with Warrick's investigation and more to do with a previous interaction? femslash.  No spoilers but does reference episodes 2 & 3 from the first season. Complete
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** I own nothing. These characters belong to CBS and whoever else owns the rights to them.

**Pairing: **Catherine/Sara

**Timeline: **First season, episodes 2&3. Not cannon but does contain some references to those episodes.

**Summary:**Catherine's initial hostility to Sara has to do with more than just Warrick's investigation.

**Author's Note:** So I was re-watching the first season last night and couldn't help but think that Catherine's objections to Sara were a little too vehement for someone she supposedly hasn't met before. And this is what popped into my head.

Blame NaNo write and too much chocolate.

**Chapter One.(of 3)**

_Sara Sidle_

The buzzing in my ears drowns out the rest of Grissom's response but I can tell from the slightly raised eyebrow and the purse of his lips that he's concerned. He thinks that I'm mad at him and maybe I am. We all know that Warrick screwed up. Bringing in an outsider to nail him for it isn't really neccessary. But mostly I'm angry at the circumstances, at myself and the fact that once again my past has come hack to haunt me.

As soon as I am able to excuse myself I flee to my office. Once there I shut the door and firmly and cross the room to sink into the chair behind my desk. My heart is racing and memories start to stir as a name I haven't heard, have barely even thought, in years echoes inside my head.

_Sara Sidle_

Immediately my mind conjures up an image, short dark hair, curls framing her face, dark, unreadable eyes and a sexy, smirking smile.

I had no idea she was a CSI. No idea she was Grissom's friend.

"God," I let out a sigh and drop my head into my hands. One indescretion, years ago and my world is being rocked yet again.

The memories start to come more readily, a forensic conference in Sacramento? No, San Franscisco. Long lectures, some interesting, most boring. A mix of academic types and science geeks. Just before I left, Eddie and I got into a fight and when I call that night he won't let me say goodnight to Lindsey. That pisses me off and we get into another fight, screaming at each other over the phone until I hang up on him. I know I won't be able to sleep after that so I head down to the lobby and ask the conceirge to reccomend a bar where I can relax away from the conference. I believe my exact words were, a bar where a girl can go to have a drink and relax. Perhaps he read something into my words that wasn't there. Or maybe I inferred more than I'd intended but either way the bar he directs me to ends up being a lesbian bar.

After a moment of lingering in the doorway I cross the threshold and make my way across the room to the bar. I order a beer and when it comes, nurse it slowly.

I'm on my second beer when a body bellies up to the bar beside me and orders two beers. I barely glance over, just turn my head enough to see who it is standing beside me but the timing is just so that as I'm looking over at her she's looking back at me. Our eyes meet and hold for a moment and she offeres a polite, meaningless smile. Without my permission my eyes give her a once over, taking in her tall, lean frame and when they reach her face again her smile has turned into a grin.

A blush heats up my cheeks and I hope that she can't see it in the darkness. I'm a married woman. I shouldn't be checking people out in bars. Especially not young, incredibly attractive women who are exactly my type on a night like this, when my temper is flaring and my nerves are shot.

The bartender returns with her beers and sets them at her elbow without a word. She takes one and hands the other to me. I accept it automatically, even as my mind forms protests. When I open my mouth to offer one all that comes out is "thank you."

She nods, "sure."

We drink in silence for a few minutes. I'm trying to figure out whether or not I should start a conversation. And what I would say, what we would even talk about. For her part she seems contented to lean against the bar quietly, her thumb tapping the surface of the bar in time with the music. It's an absent gesture and I'm not sure that she's even aware that she's doing it.

I like the fact that she's not saying anything. If she had tried to come onto me or flirt I probably would have shot her down but this quiet confidence thing is a turn on. I'm fairly certain that I'm going to be taking her home with me tonight. Or going with her. It doesn't really matter. I just need to work off some of this tension.

She downs her beer and gestures for another round. I finish mine quickly and am ready for the next one when it arrives.

"Hey, Sara, we're taking off." We both look up as a blond pixie approaches us and gestures over her shoulder to where three other woman are gathering their things from one of the tables along the wall.

"I'm going to hang here for a bit," the woman, Sara, says with a shrug. She makes a vague gesture to her half-full beer bottle.

"All right." The blond gives her a grin as she takes a step backwards.

The others look up as they start to head for the door, realization that their friend isn't coming with them dawns and they exchange knowing glances.

"Night, Sar," one of them calls.

"Catch you late, Sidle," says another.

And then they're gone and we're alone.

And that's when things begin to get a little fuzzy. Four beers mixed with jet lag and an empty stomach means I'm a little more drunk at this point than I should be. I remember there's more drinking, and a little bit of conversation. I remember hot, wet kisses and soft, smooth skin and waking up alone in my hotel room the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**For all disclaimers see Chapter 1**

**Spoilers:** Season 1, episode 2 and a reference to Season 1 episode 3

Kira699 I'm glad that I'm not the only one who noticed. I thought there was something about Catherine's reaction to Sara's name in the first place struck me, she didn't look confused the way Warrick did, just pissed.

Jits Thank you. And thank you for reading/replying.

GSRCSILVR25 Thanks. And thanks for reading.

**Chapter 2(of 3)**

**Sara**

Sometims I wonder if I'm a glutton for punishment. If I don't willingly set myself up in impossible situations and then beat myself up when I fail. And then there are other times, times like this when I know for a fact that I am.

I can't help but wonder what the hell I was thinking when I agreed to come out here and run this investigation for Grissom. Yes, he's a good friend and it will be nice to actually get to spend some time with him after so many years of emails and sporatic phone calls but I could have just taken a flight out here and come for a visit. Maybe I just wanted the chance to impress my quasi-mentor with the skills I've gained over the last few years. But am I really going to impress him by coming out here to investigate a member of his team, someone he works with and interacts with on a daily basis. Yes, he said he trusted me and my instincts but how much is he going to trust me if I find Warrick Brown even marginally responsible for the death of Holly Gribbs?

It's an impossible situation. And yet here I am, wandering the halls of the Las Vegas crime lab looking for the first person I'm supposed to interview. The girl at the desk said she was in one of the evidence rooms and when I approach the door to the first one in the hallway I see a woman working on a laptop inside.

She looks over at me as I open the door, just a quick glance but I can feel the heat of her gaze in that brief moment before she turns her attention back to her computer screen.

She is tense, I can see that even from across the room. Her hands are poised over the keyboard but I doubt she is actually typing anything, it's just an excuse to avoid me. As if she thinks that if she looks busy I will leave her alone.

"Do you know where I can find Catherine Willows?"

Her posture does not relax at my question. In fact, if possible she seems to grow stiffer, the muscles in her forearm standing out in stark relief as her arms tense.

"She's out in the field," she answers, without even looking up, her tone clipped.

Funny that, I was told that she'd be in here. I glance down at the papers in my hand and then back to the woman at the computer, wondering once again why I am here. It's not like I had expected to be welcomed with open arms or anything but I hadn't expected to be blatantly lied to either.

I'm not sure what to do next. Give me fingerprints or fibers and I can work magic but people aren't exaclty my strong suit. Especially not uncooperative ones.

"Let me guess..." she let out a soft sigh. "Sara Sidle."

I have a feeling that's not what she wanted to say but it's apparently what she chose to go with.

"I know who I am. I think you're a little confused." I try for a little levity but the joke falls flat as she turns to me, her look pure hostility.

" If you think you're taking my case ... forget it."

I sigh and shut the door behind me then take a few steps into the room."Look, we can stand here and argue or we can get out there and find out who did this to Holly Gribbs." She appears unmoved by my words. "Two sharp women are better than one. "

Catherine eyes me apraisingly and appears to consider my words. Afer a moment she turns, grabs the evidence bag next to her and holds it up "Pager."

I let out a soft sigh and close the distance between us. It's not exactly a warm welcome but at the moment I'll take it. Anything to move this investigation forward.

**Catherine**

I see her approach the door in the corner of my eye and I tense, steeling myself for what it is going to be a very awkward, very uncomfortble conversation. I've been trying to prepare myself for it all day and I'm still not ready.

I've worked hard to keep certain aspects of my past, of my life, away from the job. And I resent that one night, one mistake from years ago is going to upset that balance now, when things have finally gotten good.

The door opens and I glance over, taking in the woman stepping into the room. She hasn't changed much in the intervening years. Her hairs a little shorter but she looks the same, carries herself the same. My pulse starts to race as memories come flooding back and I desperately hope that I'm not blushing. I avert my gaze, feigning interest in the computer screen in front of me.

"Do you know where I can find Catherine Willows?"

A shiver runs through me at her voice, soft and throaty, a bedroom voice even in the middle of the crime lab. God, I'd forgotten what her voice could do to me.

And then her words register. She's asking after me as if she has no idea who I am.

"She's out in the field."

It's a stupid lie and I don't know why I say it but I'm hoping it'll be enough to get her out of here because I need a moment to gather myself.

But she sees right through it. I can tell by the awkward shift of her body and the way she doesn't retreat but remains in the doorway uncertainly.

"Let me guess..."I begin but trail off not sure how to word what I want to say. Somehow I don't think, 'you were too drunk to remember' is really going to help the situation. "Sara Sidle."

"I know who I am. I think you're a little confused."

I should be happy about this. If she can't remember our night together then I've dodged a bullet here. I should be and yet I'm not. All I feel is pissed. She really doesn't remember?

I glance over, looking for some sign of recognition. For some indication that she's aware of exaclty who I am but is just pushing through with professionalism. But there is nothing.

" If you think you're taking my case ... forget it." It's weak but it's the only thing I can think of at the moment to explain the tension I know is radiating off me.


	3. Chapter 3

**For all disclaimers, see Chapter One**

**Author's Note: **Thanks for reading guys, and for taking the time to comment. You're words mean a lot.

I hope you enjoy the conclusion of this story and my take on what really caused all that tension between Catherine and Sara.

**Chapter Three.**

I knew Warrick's investigation hadn't won me any friends but when Grissom offered me a job on his team, I accepted. Glutton for punishment and all that. I just couldn't resist the lure of the Vegas crime lab. It's one of the best in the country. Not to mention the opportunity to work Grissom.

For the most part everyone is polite, if not overtly friendly. I am slowly building a rapport with the others. Except for Catherine. She's spent the last two weks snapping at me and making snide remarks. Any attempt I make at friendship or hell, even a good working relationship is shot down. I'm not really sure what her problem is. It's not like she was the one being investigated. If Warrick could move past it then she should be able to as well. And it's not like there aren't enough cases to go around. As far as I can tell, she's just decided to be a bitch and it's starting to piss me off.

At first I figured I'd let her get her jabs in and her anger or whatever would wear itself out but it doesn't show any signs of letting up. In fact, it seems to be getting worse.

It don't know what it was about today that made me snap. But when she snaps at me in the breakroom over my question about birthday presents I decide enough is enough. I've had enough of these personal attacks against me from someone who doesn't know me at all. When she leaves I follow her down the hall to her office, intent on giving her a piece of my mind.

She steps into her office and without even turning around slams the door shut with a quick flick of her wrist. I just barely manage to slip through without being hit. She lets out a soft sigh and runs her hand through her hair as she paces one way then turns to pace back.

"Sara." She sounds surprised that I'm standing before her yet there is no way she didn't know I'd been following on her heels.

"What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem? You're the one stalking me down the hallway and barging their way into my office."

"Catherine," My voice is low, angry. "What the hell is your problem?" I repeat my question.

"You. You are my problem."

I bite back a sigh. This is not going anywhere. "Yeah, I got that," I snap back. "I want to know why?"

She stares at me for a long moment, lips pursed, eyes darkening with fury. "You really don't remember?"

"Remember what?" I ask, confused.

She takes a step closer. "You really have no idea who I am, do you?"

My first instinct is to laugh. Of course I know who she is, she's been in my face for the last two weeks. But, another look at her expression tells me that there's more to what she said than a simple question about her identity.

She takes another step, then another, closing the distance between us as she studies my face, looking for something. What, I don't know.

"Well, let me refresh your memory then." By this point she's standing so close that I can feel the heat of her body and her breath brushes against my lips with each word.

And the next thing I know, Catherine's lips are on mine and her tongue is seeking entrance into my mouth, insistently pressing it's way in as I stumble backwards, away from the onlsaught. Catherine moves with me though, and my back hits the wall. There's not an inch of space between us and now I'm wedged between the wall and the solid warmth of Catherine's body.

My mind is scrambling to figure out what is going on even as my body starts to respond. Catherine's lips are soft and smooth, tasting faintly of coffee and her tongue is deft and sure as it slids into my mouth and coaxes me into deepening the kiss. My hands come up automtically to grip Catherine's waist, my fingers digging into warm flesh as I struggle to remain upright.

I'm not sure what this has to do with me remembering and I know I should push her away and demand to know what's going on but I'm so caught up in the feel of her body pressed against mine and the velvet heat that is the inside of her mouth.

Her intrusion inside me comes without warning. So distracted by the feel of her lips on mine I didn't even realize she'd reached down with one hand and undone the button and fly of my pants. But suddenly, she has three fingers inside me and walls are stretching to accomodate her, sending vibrations through my body.

I moan her name against her lips, half protest, half plea, as my hips angle up towards her touch, pulling her in deeper.

It is when I feel her faint chuckle, a vibration in the back of her throat more than a sound that memory slams into me. A bar in San Fransisco several years ago. A few beers, a woman, a night of sex and passion.

We'd done it against the hotel room door. The first time fast and rough, eeking out our tension before falling into bed and spending half the night touching, teasing, kissing, caressing.

That woman had been Catherine?

And then my thoughts fracture as Catherine's fingers continue to pump and stroke inside me. I clutch her to me as the orgasm rolls through me. My walls clench around her finger, her fingers clench against her skin. Her mouth against mine muffles my cry.

She pulls out as my body relaxes, steps away as I sag to the floor. I close my eyes and concentrate on bringing my breathing back under control. When I open them again, she is gone. I am alone in her office.

The memory is a little clearer this time. I pull up an image of Catherine's face.

No names were ever exchanged but obviously she knew who I was the moment I walked through the door. And I'd forgotten.

Well, that explained her attitude.

My head falls back against the wall as I realize that I am screwed.

THE END.


End file.
